Dreams of Africa

In some ways it feels so easy to be back at work, free floating through the nascent baby stages of desert springtime. It got cloudy a little while ago, but otherwise I've been sailing all day through a mythic blue day that made me think of Africa. The snow is mostly gone, except for here and there patches and in between glimpses of high peaks. In some ways easy and in others tedious and picky, because I want so bad to do it well and redeem myself from that pesky little disciplinary paper presently lying in my file reminding me to slow down and think before I speak.

I feel ridiculous taking a break my first night in the field mid-shift. But at the same time if I'm ever going to learn one of my many lessons out here I have to start being proactive and helping myself before things get bad. So thus I am hiding out for the moment at Old Base Camp wondering what the next ten days have up their sleeves.

I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm intimidated facing another almost double shift. I'm edging towards no to be honest but maybe shying away from judgement. The last double worked me so intensely I try not to think about it. But I feel like I'm in such a different headspace now, that comparison is only just barely valid. I guess I hadn't really realized how much the shambles of my love life had really affected me. Work definitely sits a lot more lightely now than it did two months ago. Thats for sure.

For this shift, well this week anyway, I'm looking for clear goals still. I'd like to settle in again, really, to a routine both personal and professional. I'd like to do more listening to talking. I'd like to seek out each girl for their own sake and begin to build rapport individually. I'd really like to have a good handle on my communication this week, though I'm not quite sure how that might look. Hopefully not talking about other people, and owning and appologizing when I do. I want to bust at least one fire, and failing that I want to put in a good and regular effort in trying.

I guess I'm more tired than it seemed, dozing off in my crazy creek like this...

Ain'ta That Good News

The good news is I'm angry. While I can't and don't entirely absolve myself from what happened, I'm pissed off by how I've been treated. I'm sad that this is how it worked out, and genuinely thought it'd be different between us. I'm a little scared to be going back to work in the middle (end?) of all this knowing how gossipy and insular our workplace can be. I'm frustrated by my thing social network in this town, how everyone I'm close to is in some way connected back to Open Sky. Its coming off as a bit incestuous, and I don't know who I can trust who isn't somehow also involved in his side of things. Not like there are sides, there aren't. I have very limited desires to trash talk him, but it would be nice to be able to talk openly and not wonder how I'm being judged or where my words will be passed on to. I need some girlfriends in this state, who I can whine too, and some friend-boys who will kiss it and make it better and tell me they'll take care of the problem. I need friends who will take me out drinking when something like this happens again.

The more I think about everything that happened between us the more skeezed out I get. For starters, I find it incredibly strange that he would tell me about getting accused with raping a girl and having to leave school for a year to let things blow over. Tell me at all, much less tell me while trying to get in bed with me. I'm a bit disgusted with myself that I thought it was cute at the time--a vulnerable disclosure. Now the whole conversation just creeps me out. I think the scheduling thing was a convenient excuse to not get involved and to justify what amounts to basically using me for sex. I'm upset about the being used part, not the sex part. That I will mourn the loss of...but I kept my integrity.

I come again to the inevitable conclusion that I think I just can't do casual sex. I remember how much hooking up with Noah tore me up because I couldnt rationalize it away. I don't get get the concept, its foreign to me on so many levels. I kind of wish a little bit that I could be nonchalant about sex and love, I think it would make so many adult interactions so much easier. I think some of my hestitations come back to never having the balls to go after someone I want until they show interest in me. I end up infatuated with people because they come to my level, then it's all ok. Not because neccesarily interested in them or god forbid attracted to them, but simply due to the novelty that someone actually likes me and wants to spend time with me. My thoughts on the subject often come into play way too late in the game. But more than that I just dont think I can be intimate with someone without getting my brain involved. I cant really imagine being attracted physically to someone enough that I want to sleep with him, and not be attracted to any emotional parts. I suck at compartmentalizing anyway, but that I think is an unreachable goal--keep sex and like and love completely separate. I don't think I have it in me.

I liked that he was interested in me physically, intellectually, even it seemed like emotionally. I liked that I felt comfortable around him, and was myself. I liked the conversations, about books and culture and world affairs and current events. I liked how I could be honest and open and blunt with him (except for when I wasn't). I loved the snowshoeing adventure. I liked playing cards and being real too. I liked that he was taller than me, and no lie I really liked his abs.

I didn'tlike how weird things got as soon as we weren't together. How there was always something else he had to do instead of be with me. I didn't like how much I wondered about what was in his brain. I didn't like the way he didn't often seem to care whether I enjoyed the sex. I didn't like the way it felt secret between us. I didn't like how I always wondered what he thought bout me. I hated how lovesick and distracted he made me feel for two months, always day dreaming about some nice thing that was going to happen. I hate how self-centered he clearly seems to me after writing all of this.

I'm proud of myself for letting go. I'm proud I allowed myself to experience physical pleasure. I'm proud I did this, even though I knew I'd like as not end up hurt. I'm proud I lost my head for a while, that I let things play out. I'm proud I showed up, was honest with myself, the situation, and with him. I asked a little while back for courage and grace to be truthful and embrace the experience, and I think I was able to do both those things. It didn't end the way I woulda liked, but I did the best I could. I opted in. I dont think I would have been able to a year ago, or even 6 months ago, before I came out here. I think I would have been too afraid.

I'm happy to have him off of my chest. It is a bit of a relief on top of everything else I've been feeling. I don't have to sit with my crazy girl brain for another two months as miserable as the last two were in some respects. I got good and definitive answers, closure, and can get on with things. I can go back to the job that I love with a clear head, and not be constantly looking over my shoulder, or dreaming up harebrained excuses to run into him. I can go out with people I meet and not wonder if I should be telling them that I'm seeing someone. I can get back to the work of building a life here, and remind myself that I have to be the kind of person that I want to be around before anyone else will.

There will be other rapids, I know there will be. I don't quite believe that given my three year dry spell, but I know it to be true somewhere deep in the death throws of my stupid girl brain. This might be another long stretch of flat paddling, but there are always other rapids coming.

I'm so looking forward to going back to work on Saturday. My body and heart and soul are craving it, and my brain will hopefully get there shortly.

Don't Stop Believing

So I did some impossible today, I had a real meaningful personal conversation with Jack. I have come to the conclusion that good casual sex is still casual sex, and sleeping with him is starting to make me feel shitty afterward due to the inevitable separation. Somewhere in the middle of trying to convince myself that I wasn't interested and didn't care, I got attached, and I'm so proud of myself for saying so. The only time previously I've done so was with Jason way back when.

While I'm sad and disappointed about how everything worked out I can't say I'm entirely surprised. It worried me enough just for the sake of our still opposing schedules, though i guess I secretly was thinking it would all work out once we managed to find ourselves in the same place at the same time. I should have acknowledged that we both had clearly different expectations, I saw but I tried to ignore. Even before the whole " but I like you and I like sex so I figured it'd work, but I have no intention for anything romantic..." spiel, I saw it. I wish I could be pissed at him, but I'm not, I'm pissed at myself for believing. I hadn't felt used before the conversation this afternoon at all, but now I do. I'm pissed at myself for expecting more from casual sex.

Ritual

This whole Unitarian ritual is so bizarre. I guess there is something to be said for tradition, because otherwise I'm not sure why I still do this, more than some drawn out connection to parents and grandparents and home I wish I could say its a matter of belief or conviction but the fact is I come because it seemed like a good idea at the time, 'cause I feel like I should on some level, or for lack of a better idea. I often leave disappointed.

Spirituality for me, has grown way bigger than the confines of a building. Buildings rarely (not never, just rarely) move one to some higher existence. I'd say spirit is something intangible, more a sense in my gut, a shaking. Spirit is hard to explain. It was there in that flame-lit stone chaple way back when. It was there in the sweat lodge. It was there at Chaco, when I ducked between the eaves of ancient ruins and felt my throat constrict. Spirit pulls at my heart when I am sleeping alone under a clear night sky full of stars.

Worship I guess is an entirely differnet deal. I'm grateful for what a life and heritage of church-going has taught me as far as how I live my days, but worshipping together has rarely touched into the spiritual side of things for me. I dont want answers, I'm not looking for the right choice to be handed down to me from places unseen. I like the struggle, all for myself. I worship when I meditate, recognizing the small space which I occupy between and with the unending stream of everyone and everything in the universe. Worship I believe involves calling attention and holding sacred space for spirit.

My mother asked me recently, how my spirituality has changed since I've been out here. This I suppose is my weak attempt to figure that out. I know that my faith has grown by a lot since I moved to Colorado, but in ways I'm not convinced have any small connection to spirituality at all. Faith in humanity and faith in the universe seem like residents of some ordinary plane, nothing much higher to me. My awareness of spirit around me has changed a whole lot, I think thats the biggest difference. I know, now how walking into a ruin feels--how the air gets a little bit thicker and the light a little bit sharper, and how the hair on my neck stands and my heart thuds towards attention. I know now how the desert breaths at night--heavily and hot, till the moon shows up and then how the whole place dreams of ice and silver and deliverance.

I'm at Steaming Bean kicking myself for staring out onto mainstreet and visually undressing every black SUV that goes by to see if its his. I am really hating this stupid girl brain right now, while simaltaneously almost realizing it's futile to try to control it, much as I'd like to turn it off and get back to my life. There is little I loath more than waiting for the phone to ring. Feeling like I'm stuck in limbo and waiting for the phone to ring, well, thats an all around winner.

I wish I could write all of this effectively, but I can't seem to find an angle or a way in. It would make such a good short story, everything thats happened. I think I just dont quite know how to tell it yet.

Greatful

I'm grateful for the sunshine and for the hint of lingering snow. I'm grateful for my job and for the opportunity it gives me to grow and be challenged as a human. I'm grateful to be doing meaningful work and that I know my presence is a blessing. I'm thankful for all the stress and pain that has taught me to appreciate where I've landed in this moment. I'm thankful for the grounding presence of yoga and meditation in my life, and for the feeling of earth beneath me once more. I'm greatful for my education, inside the classroom and out--particularly all of my travels and other such associated adventures. I'm so grateful for the opportunities I've had to immerse myself in culture and see things far beyond my comfort zone. I'm grateful for my mind that seems to be predisposed to learning other languages easily, and for all the special and indispensable experiences I've had while navigating in other tongues. I'm grateful to have the means to live comfortably enough, and to have had the support to pursue what I love. I'm grateful for all the people who love me, and for all the people whom I've had the chance to love. I'm grateful for my deepening awareness and understanding of the universe and for all the lessons and synchronicity of purpose and event that keep smacking me in the face. In this moment I'm grateful that my body is whole and that my mind is getting there. I'm grateful that I remain open to the experience, whatever that may be. I'm grateful that I've had some pretty profound intimate experiences, and that I've developed enough faith and awareness to actually look forward to more in the future. I'm grateful that I'm happy, content, engaged, and curious.

Strange Fruit

It is so very good to be back in Durango. Driving up yesterday morning, from the first glimpse of the snowy mountains a good 90 miles south was like coming home. I love my little sunshine and blue skys room, and I love the delicious perplexities of this little town.

I am a strange flavor of lassitude today. It seems like all I want to do is laze around and daydream, and worse off than usual with out the impending sort of pressure of the coming work week. At least tomorrow I have stuff to do to speed the progress of the day--yoga early then the follow up with the doc. And then hopefully Friday will pass by unnoticed and I will have the weekend to ponder.

I can not even begin to describe the chaos and craziness swimming in my brain right now. I almost hesitate to write lately at all, because it seems like its always the same crap. Either work crazies with the occasional semi-legitimate ponderance, the turmoils of not working, or some color of boy induced ridiculousness. I mean, really, the highlite of the last little while is probably getting my federal tax refund yesterday. The biggest thing on my mind currently is whether or not I have the energy to go on another adventure this month before going back to work in a week and a half. And wondering whether the kiddoes will remember me when I do get back. And tthen of course the perpetual quandry of what to say to him--but I've been so possesed lately and have no new information or revelations on the topic so it almost fails to mention.

All I can really hope for, in all directions and regards, is for courage. I ask for the fearlessness to face what comes with the truth and directness and honesty that reality demands. To not shy away from the conversations and experiences that I demand in order to protect myself from some mythic painful future. Really I just hope to summon the grace and passion that I know I possess in order to speak my truth.

Its like the more I say it the more ridiculous this all sounds.

At Chaco

Chaco Canyon
Its tuesday, sunup
and the sky is spitting snow
petulantly.

Pueblo Bonito, at first
approach made me cry,
absurdly
between the ghosts and graves
and stones and ravens.

I fled.

And the greasewood marshalls
giggled, and mocked.
But such a place where even
the canyon walls have wings?

I returned.

Inching my way, hesitantly,
through footfalls and boulders
ravished and ravishing,
and here even I hear ocean.

The ravens perch on
one half forgotten windowsill
and canyon wrens rush about
with too much to do.
Both seem to peer across at
me, wondering

If I am the next act.